gravy which induces one to lick one's fingers. At first he was afraid
of vexing his brother, who was a small eater and spoke of good fare with
the disdain of a man who is ignorant of it; but afterwards, on seeing
that Florent listened to him when he explained the preparation of some
very elaborate dish, he confessed his desires and presently found a
situation at a large restaurant. From that time forward the life of the
two brothers was settled. They continued to live in the room in the Rue
Royer Collard, whither they returned every evening; the one glowing and
radiant from his hot fire, the other with the depressed countenance of
a shabby, impecunious teacher. Florent still wore his old black coat, as
he sat absorbed in correcting his pupils' exercises; while Quenu, to
put himself more at ease, donned his white apron, cap, and jacket, and,
flitting about in front of the stove, amused himself by baking some
dainty in the oven. Sometimes they smiled at seeing themselves thus
attired, the one all in black, the other all in white. These different
garbs, one bright and the other sombre, seemed to make the big room half
gay and half mournful. Never, however, was there so much harmony in a
household marked by such dissimilarity. Though the elder brother grew
thinner and thinner, consumed by the ardent temperament which he had
inherited from his Provencal father, and the younger one waxed fatter
and fatter like a true son of Normandy, they loved each other in the
brotherhood they derived from their mother--a mother who had been all
devotion.

They had a relation in Paris, a brother of their mother's, one Gradelle,
who was in business as a pork butcher in the Rue Pirouette, near
the central markets. He was a fat, hard-hearted, miserly fellow, and
received his nephews as though they were starving paupers the first time
they paid him a visit. They seldom went to see him afterwards. On
his nameday Quenu would take him a bunch of flowers, and receive a